


Expectation.

by Nemhain



Category: Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, Red Dragon (2002), Red Dragon - Thomas Harris, The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemhain/pseuds/Nemhain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarice Starling tries to get rid of soft voice in her dreams. However, she chooses the wrong way to do so. Or maybe she already can not be helped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectation.

Clarice took another look around and finally pushed the button. She almost wished the bell to be jarring and alarming. At least, it would help her to pull emotions together. But it sounded nice despite her expectations.  
Starling felt her palms sweating. She angrily straightened herself. For God’s sake! She was the FBI agent, not a graduate of Noble Ladyship. She needed to speak with drinker and ex-agent, not with maniacal ripper. However, the fear and doubts put its sticky tentacles into her thoughts. She feared less when she was following Jame Gumb into the basement of his house. How can any talk be more frightening then the psycho skinning off his victims? Good question it was.  
Standing near groomed house she felt exactly so. Thickets of tall reeds rustled around. Morning sunshine pleasantly caressed the skin.  
One would say nobody lived here. However, the glass on the windowsill was full and not with rainwater, the corgi who was hiding under the chair near the door and watching with quite whining and unhidden interest was definitely domestic and there were bits and pieces of boat motors spread over the terrace.  
Clarice snapped up the paper bag with some food and bottle of Southern Comfort and pushed the button again.

She was ready to strive for the ghostly opportunity to get rid of the tender voice whispering her name in the dreams.

She was standing somewhere in the Okeechobee, Florida.

There was sound of steps from the inner side of the door. It opened just a bit because of the the door chain. It was dark inside as if all the curtains in the house were tightly closed and the sunshine could barely slip between them.  
\- Good… - Clarice started, but was interrupted rudely.  
\- I doubt it, - the voice was hoarse and pretty quite, with light ascent, which was difficult to attribute to any district or nationality. – I don’t speak with Bureau.  
The door started to close, but Starling pushed it as strong as she could and almost shouted:  
\- I need Will Graham! Private talk. No Bureau.  
There was an anguished moan and hit on the doorjamb, but the man stopped attempts to shut the door. Moments were flowing in the viscid silence, and Starling felt like she and her unfriendly companion fell into it. Finally, he said:  
\- Let it go, I’ll open.  
She took off the arms, the chain clicked and the door opened.  
\- My name is …  
\- Clarice Starling, - he interrupted her again.  
He looked at her greedily, squinting. It must had been the bright sunlight at her back what blinded him. She tried not to stare at him, after all she was unexpected guest, but couldn’t resist her curiosity. He looked slovenly and sleepy, as if he hadn’t waken up yet even though it was almost noon. He was barefoot, wearing only his briefs and T-shirt with stains of sweat and something else. Clarice strived to look into his eyes, but failed as her gaze was attracted by man’s face jewelled with mess of scars. It looked like elderly Picasso drawing of the whirlwind with center right under the sharp edge of the cheekbone. He should have his left cheekbone and part of the jaw crushed and his nerves should be damaged up to his eye. Crawford mentioned once that Graham sees on the left eye only about twenty percent. So the accent wasn’t his biggest problem. The abusive alcohol consumption also left its signs. Will’s face was puffy and decorated with dark purses under his eyes. To finish the picture, he was unshaved.  
Her face probably showed some mixture of pity and disgust. Graham sharply turned his head as if he wanted to look at the corgi, but actually in attempt to hide face from her.  
-Bad guard you are, Freddy, - he mentioned to the dog. It didn’t care, happily got up and run into the house. – Miss Starling, - he addressed her stepping of the way inside.  
Clarice took it as invitation. Passing Will, who was still looking for something outside, she could smell unwashed body, sweat and alcohol. The air in the house was stale and the mixture of flavors was complemented by dogs' stink.  
\- Follow the corridor to the end, please, to the kitchen. You may open the door and windows there, - he seemed to read her mind. – Excuse me.  
He stepped to the side, going upstairs.  
\- Thank you, - said Starling even though she wasn’t sure for what exactly she was grateful.

Starling found the place on the kitchen table where to put the bag not without challenge. The whole surface was gradually covered with plates, glasses, bottles and newspapers and even with some spare parts of motors. She uncurtained windows revealing another terrace on the backside of the house and opened the door letting fresh air in. Two dogs run into the kitchen immediately and with funny barking slipped outside not paying any attention to her, of which she was actually happy. Clarice never liked dogs.  
The light uncovered the whole kitchen ruled by the same mess as the table confirming Starling’s suspicions. However, there where no mountain of dishes and cutlery in the sink, what left hope that from time to time Graham managed to take himself into hands and clean this creative disorder all at once.  
Clarice took a thought if it would be appropriate to fish out some cups to wash and make a tea while she is waiting instead of just analyzing this mess with attempts to figure out how the legendary detective spends his days now. The last seemed even more rude than to make herself home. So she put all the cups into the sink, washed two of those and switched on the kettle.  
The corgi entered the kitchen and continued to study her with scrutiny. He cutely bended his head to the left side.  
\- Hey, buddy, - she said smiling while wiping her hands with the towel which was far away from at least looking clean, but there was not much choice.  
Freddy sniffed the air and pattered to the table staring at the bag. He probably smelled the sandwiches with ham, which she brought. Clarice couldn’t decide what to do, when she heard the voice from the corridor:  
\- Beggar.  
Corgi waved happily with his tail and run outside acknowledging that his sabotage didn’t work.

Will Graham stepped into the room. His hair was wet. He probably took a shower. He changed into lovely shirt in red square and clean jeans. He hadn’t shaved, but Clarice admitted that it would be too long procedure considering the condition of his face.  
\- Good afternoon, Clarice, - he was looking straight at her, hiding his left side of the face in the shadows.  
Of course there were some trails on the right cheek as well, but none was as impressive.  
When he addressed her in the doors she thought, that he knew her from the newspapers after Buffalo Bill’s case. However, now she could hear how much more intimate his words sounded. To broke the confusion that hold her for a second she asked:  
\- Can I call you…  
\- Graham.  
It was déjà vu. She felt like speaking with that, other person.  
\- How do you know me?  
Man bended his head and tried to smile, but it looked more like a grim. Should be not the simplest of his facial expressions now. With that gesture he said “You already know the answer, Clarice”, but pronounced a bit different words:  
\- Sometimes I think I know you from your birthday.  
\- He told you.  
Will nodded:  
\- He mentioned, that you’re smart.  
It sounded mockingly, as if it was Dr. Hannibal Lecter who said that.  
\- Don’t worry, - Will sighed, pointing out how strengthened she became in a moment. She could barely stop herself from pulling out the gun. – He is not here. If he would have visited me, you’ve probably found a body. Possibly mine or even his.  
\- But how?  
\- Well, you can hide almost nothing from Lecter. While my address can be reached through a living person, it is available. After all, you’ve managed to get it too, - Graham answered. Starling felt shame for intervening the life of a man who was more than clear in his wish of being left alone. However, this doesn’t seem to be his reason, as he continued, - I think, at some point I would have given it to him voluntary just to stop this absurd correspondence through Tattler, - he trebled his shoulders, - “My dear Will…”  
Clarice nodded, taking the answer.  
\- Don’t you think he may come and kill you?  
\- Well, I won’t get upset. Every normal society would have already killed my out of mercy. But no, - Graham swung from toe to hills and back. – He definitely finds it entertaining to mess about what is left of my consciousness.  
Will continued to study her, but was avoiding eye contact, as if at the right same moment he did that something terrible would happen. One of his dogs arrived from outside, knocked his hand with its nose; Graham stroked its head and looked at it, showing her his left side of the face. The kettle boiled.  
\- The teabags are in the cupboard over the sink, - Graham said, passing to the window. – You should excuse me, I wasn’t expecting any guests, - he probably meant the mess.  
\- I should have called you first, - Clarice tried to apologize.  
\- Maybe. What’s it? – he pointed out the bag.  
\- I think, even unexpected guests shouldn’t arrive with bare hands.  
\- You’re polite, - he mentioned. – Even though it comes to you with such an afford.  
The pause dropped. Starling made two cups of the tea, trying to get rid off the annoyance. He was very much right and it hurt. Almost as deep as when Dr. Lecter valued her cheap shoes. It was ridiculous, but Clarice did throw those away and buy new, good ones to match the bag, straight from the first agent’s salary.  
\- And you came just to see me? – Will suddenly asked.  
\- Yes.  
\- And you don’t need anything from me, - he sounded surprised. – Just a visit. And you don’t need any understanding. Any advice.  
She didn’t know what to answer.  
\- You came to me because I am the second only man, who survived the close familiarity with Lecter, didn’t you? – now he echoed Hannibal himself.  
\- I …  
\- I was waiting for you, Clarice, - Will said, getting closer.  
Starling stiffened expecting something from him, but he only took one of the cups and passed to the table.  
\- What? – she was a bit shocked.  
\- From the very same moment when he started to tell me about you, I was waiting for you to come.  
\- Why?  
\- He speaks with you, doesn’t he? – he managed a light smile this time.  
She was not going to answer. There were many gossips around Will Graham, each one crazier then another. Someone said, he is just a wonderful analysts and operate with facts as a magician. Others said, he is has that paranormal empathy. The thirds declared him just a fake, stating that there was no gain from him on Red Dragon’s case, much luck he had to catch Hannibal by accident and Hobbs was shot by Graham’s imprudence. But now Starling started to get her own vision: he is just like them.  
\- You know, that Hannibal likes you. I think … No, I am sure, he dreams of you. In sexual way. And you, Clarice? When you dream of him, do two of you have sex? Or I’d better use another word. Do you two do love in your dreams?  
Starling felt herself blushing. Quite man’s voice was getting into her thoughts so easily. It was terribly familiar. She couldn’t understand with whom was she speaking now, with Will Graham or Hannibal Lecter.  
She was wrong. She would not get any help here. She’d better leave.  
\- I am sorry, Graham. I shouldn’t have come.  
\- Wait. Don’t leave that early.  
\- I wanted to ask you only one question, but now I see, that you don’t know the answer, - she stepped into the corridor, hearing his steps following her.  
\- You want to know, how to get rid of Hannibal Lecter.  
It wasn’t a question, but statement.  
Clarice stopped, frozen and feeling how he reached her back and stopped as well. She was feeling no danger, but he was stiffened to his core.  
\- Yes, - she said after realizing that he probably was waiting for her reaction. – Yes, I do.  
\- Leave. Quit FBI, tell Jack Crawford to fuck off, he’ll survive and find new protégé to substitute you. Do something boring, for example, gardening, get married, bear a child or at least pet a cat. Live and enjoy your life. And never ever come back.  
\- But you did.  
\- Yes, I did. I regret it.  
\- People died. You did the right thing.  
He laughed sadly and then replied:  
\- And I still regret it. Do not care how loud the lambs cry in your dreams, - Clarice flinched, - never get back. It’s easier to kill the lamb, than to make Hannibal Lecter shut up.  
\- He told you everything, didn’t he? – she asked without looking at him.  
Graham kept quite and after some time laid his arms on her shoulders.  
\- Yes, - he admitted with hint of fatality in his voice.  
\- Then..  
\- Look at me, Clarice, - he turned her to himself and showed her the left side of his face.  
It was darker in the corridor that in the kitchen, but she still could see all the scars’ lines.  
\- Feel it, - he gently took her arm and pressed against his left cheek.  
Starling could feel the terrible set of marks under her fingers, the bone deformation and his hot, angry breath.  
\- And this is only my face, - he said, taking his hand off. - Nothing.  
\- You understand, that I cannot leave, - she took her hand off his face.  
\- You can, but you don’t want, - Will shook his head. – We both know, that it is already too late for you.  
Clarice definitely didn’t want to acknowledge that. She must have left five minutes ago. She turned away from him, but he gripped her shoulder and pushed. She found herself pressed to the wall with her back and both of her wrists over her head in his tight clutch. There were not an inch between their bodies, but he still wasn’t touching her, leaving an illusion of some space. He was surprisingly fast and sharp for an alcoholic. She shouldn’t have been that much relaxed and into her emotions!  
\- Let me go, Graham! I am FBI agent. You know the protocol without me.  
\- Do you think, you can scare me with directives, small Starling? – his voice sounded gentle. – Let me speak.  
Clarice felt her heart beating crazily. She wanted to escape a delusion, but instead she met it again in flesh and bones. She must have run away from here. But she desperately wanted to stay. She was so eager to know everything Graham knew about Lecter. She needed it, even though she understood that this was one more step towards her end.  
\- The most important thing, Clarice, is not to let him into your thoughts, - Will breathed out after several moments of silence. – But we both know, it’s already too late. You’ve already made this mistake, - he finally looked her into the eyes. There was dark pain in his. – Crawford is such a coward to cover the remains of his mind with yours. He’s such a rotter, isn’t he?  
He was right. She kept silence.  
\- Do you know, how I caught him? – she winked her head: no one knew the truth in this story. He whispered: - Hannibal told me I am much like him.  
Will eased the grip, giving her opportunity to step aside, but she didn’t, only lowered her arms.  
\- He was wrong, - she stated, looking somewhere into his unshaved chin.  
\- Oh, I beg you, Clarice, - he gently tucked several strands fallen of her hairdo by her ear.  
Starling couldn’t make a move. They stand in silence till the very moment when pager in her pocket beeped. She put palm on the Graham’s chest, making him step aside:  
\- I have to go, Will.  
He let her go. When she was passing by, he leaned and smelled her perfume:  
\- L’Air du Tempts. It really suits you.  
\- Good-bye.  
He didn’t turn to check if the door closed.

Clarice was angry with herself considering this trip a great waste of time while she headed back to Quantico. She never should have gone at the first place. Everything was senseless.  
However, in two weeks she dropped some proper food and wine into the car, filled the tank up to edge and drove to Florida for the weekend. Crawford asked her after what for God’s sake she forgot in Okeechobee. She wondered if the head of BSU FBI had so much free time lately that he could keep an eye on private live of his subordinates.


End file.
